


Just Another Errand

by atomiccourier



Series: Atom I.C. Courier [7]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, just another day being a peacekeeper in the mojave, you did this to yourself six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6780109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomiccourier/pseuds/atomiccourier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When someone becomes Mayor of a big city, they take on lots of responsibility, including making up for the messes they left behind in the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Errand

**Author's Note:**

> this ends pretty abruptly and probably has lots of typos/grammatical errors because i haven't had it beta-ed. apologies.

Who the fuck needs roads anyway, it’s a fucking desert.

 

You have no idea how long it’s been since you started walking to Primm. You don’t have any sense of when you left, and Rex wouldn’t understand the question. Arcade would, but he’s not with you. A rash of sickness through freeside that looked suspiciously like the flu had him booked for the foreseeable future. You wouldn’t be able to use him as a moral crutch forever anyway. You can make your own decisions too. (You can’t. They’re always someone else’s, even when you think they’re yours. You poor thing.)

 

Well, you suppose you’ve been walking long enough, because there Primm is, rising out of the flying sands; in between your lashes. Two people stand by the road to greet you. They haven’t been out as long as you have, and are as unaffected as your ever-riled cyberdog as he bounces to greet them instead. You don’t catch what they’re saying, but make vague enough motions and sounds that they think you did, and they lead you to the good old Vikki and Vance Casino.

 

You take a seat at one of the Slot machines while Mr. Nash explains the situation to you as the Securitron had radioed to you a day or so prior. As the townspeople had voted against help from the good old robot police force when you’d taken your position, they’d become largely without protection against any assailants. The new sheriff, an ex-NCR who’d become protective of the town during her stationing here, also gave her statement. 

 

The Powder Gangers still were wildly powerful in the southern Mojave. You’d mostly ignored and avoided them while travelling to Vegas, your simplistic mind having been averse to forming any opinions on the folks. Now though, they threatened Primm on a weekly basis, shooting out store windows and stealing food and ammunition. Your job would be to take the group out, and negotiate a better security system with the townsfolk, whether that be Securitrons with actual weapons, setting up a training regimen for the citizens themselves, or building a wall, you’d get it done.

 

You said as much, and stood to get moving, before startling when both of them spoke suddenly.

 

“Ya can’t seriously be considerin’ goin out ganger huntin’ in this weather, at this hour? Get some rest, boy.”

 

You look confusedly down at your Pip-boy. 2 AM. So that’s how long you’d been walking. You always forget you have a clock right there with you.

 

As if in agreement, Rex yawns at your feet, and you stand.

 

“C’mon. We finally got the old rooms above the casino cleared out. We’ll house you in one tonight.”

 

He waves you along and you follow, suppressing a yawn. She says something along the lines of helping you clear them out tomorrow. Cool. You hope she doesn’t wake you with the sunrise, like those military types are apt to. Travelling with Boone had been…. Uncomfortable.

 

It’s a nice enough room. Rex curling up on top of your feet warms you in just the right way to fall asleep nice and fast, which is a far cry from fast and Not nice when the door of the room is unceremoniously swung open. The light is like a punch to the retinas, yours and Rex’s, and you both whine in unison over the voice of Ms. Sheriff herself.

 

While untrue, your train of thought tells you that people like this are why you kicked the NCR out. She’s much too peppy at this hour. Goddamn.

 

Well, whatever. You strap on your boots sluggishly and sling your sniper over your shoulder, literally hissing at her when she tries to help you along. She chuckles though, which you’re happy for, because she could very well frown at that. Then, it’s out the door on a trek to take out baddies. Just your kind of morning.


End file.
